


Hollow Man

by photonromance



Category: Dredd (2012), Judge Dredd (Comics), Judge Dredd - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Rough Sex, Spanking, agnst, selfcest, universe hopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judge Joseph Dredd is struck, hard, across the head and wakes in a world that is not his own. The man standing before him is not him, no matter how much he looks it. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollow Man

**Author's Note:**

> Because why not? Loads of thanks to [scumbagboots](http://scumbagboots.tumblr.com) and their partner on [Dammigalg](http://dammigalg.tumblr.com) on the tumblr for reading over this to make sure I sound like I know what I'm talking about. I'm couldn't be half a brave as I pretend to be about this without you guys.

Joseph Dredd is trapped in his own apartment. 

It's isn't really his apartment though. The bed he rises from and tucks back into order looks like his own, the sheets smell of the same sterile wash soap as his, but Joe is farther from home than he could have ever imagined. 

Even now, he isn't sure how it happened. From the middle of a firefight he had taken a rifle butt to the helmet, blurring his vision long enough he jerked upright the moment he regained control of his body. Instead of rising from the filthy street, he jerked against wrist restraints. His uniform was gone, his helmet as well. Naked and chained in a standard interrogation cube, he waited for what seemed hours in the near dark. 

The man that finally entered made Joe's stiff limbs go cold. They faced each other in silence a long time. "You can't be real." Joe said, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Who made you?" 

Joe did not say the words but they came from his mouth and in his voice. The man standing across the cell _was_ him. Judge Dredd stood in the doorway in full uniform. Joe's chin dipped briefly, the situation putting his head in a spin. 

"Stay awake, creep." The Judge said, daystick tipping Joe's face back up roughly, "You're not going to sleep until you tell me who made you and why no one in the Department knew there was a copy of me on the street."

~*~

Joe shook his head to chase the memory away and dressed comfortably in sleeping pants and a loose shirt. 

~*~

He had spent three weeks in the interrogation cube, visited daily by the man who claimed to be Judge Dredd. 

The Justice Department had run test after test, blood, tissue, finger print, bio signature, every thing possible. They came to the conclusion that the two Joseph Dredds must have been one and the same. Even clones, grown from embryo to adult, had subtle variations in biology that could be detected with careful study. 

Nothing separated the two Dredds. Scars that Joe thought his own secrets, worn and badly healed, were mirrored on his twin. A bullet scrape across his side, sopped up and stapled together without a note in the report. The knife that had kissed the artery of his thigh and left a jagged scar that left a limp Joe forced away with sheer force of will. Everything. They were the same. 

After the three weeks of interrogation, Joe was released to... to himself. The other Joe was to take him to his residence, to be their residence, until a decision could be made. Thinned by his time in a cube, Joe was dressed in recycled civvies too big for his frame and tossed on the back of the Judge's bike. 

He was driven across a sector similar enough to recognize. If only barely. Even racing by in a blur, he knew his sector. This place was not the same. Too bright. Too dark. Just wrong enough to overwhelm his senses. He was lost within minutes of leaving the Hall of Justice. 

Wherever the Judge lived, Joe had no hope of escaping to a place more familiar.

His uniform and helmet were never returned. 

~*~

Joe made himself a small breakfast and turned to his daily routine. Exercise and case file analysis were nothing to his work, but it beat pacing the room.

~*~

A man of action now relegated to a small one bedroom apartment, he had been restless at first. There had been a lot of fighting then. He broke things, familiar things, just to prove they weren't his. 

When his counterpart returned, Joe slammed himself against the man and tore at him with all of the skill his profession afforded him. 

They beat each other bloody. 

The lost muscle mass was the deciding factor. Joe lay pinned under his counterpart, face slammed against the concrete, when he realized the weight pressed in to the back of his thigh was not his counterpart's weapon. Mirrored again, Joe's own aching cock was pressed into the cold floor. 

_Adrenaline_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully, _it's just the adrenaline._

_His body disagreed._

Wreched around, Joe found himself looking into eyes just like his own. They were just as furious. Just as hungry. 

It was familiar and horrifying and Joseph Dredd did not back down. Either of them. 

The smaller Joseph had clutched at his burly counterpart and endured a brutal fucking on the concrete main room floor. It was inelegant, all gnashing teeth and fingernails scratching open skin, but Joseph came hard enough to wipe away the agony of the last four weeks. 

Beaten and fucked raw, Joe had been carried to the bedroom and deposited under the covers none too gently. He had been glad. He hadn't wanted gentle. He wanted the bruises to ache through the pleasant haze of orgasm. Joe did not want to forget that he was a man out of time. 

_~*~_

It has been six months since Joseph found himself in a world not his own. Six months spent fighting and fucking and finally settling into a semblance of normality. 

But it would never be like it was. He and his counterpart may have been the same man, but the world was not the same. Desolate, yes. Just as bleak and hopeless as his own, but... diffrent, somehow. On the street, the roads were changed and gangs reorganized.  Advertisements splashed in gaudy colors covered buildings where there should have been concrete. This world seemed plastic where he knew steel. 

He did not leave the apartment much. Joe did the work assigned to him and kept himself in fighting shape and struggled to find his place. His counterpart did not need him. Joseph Dredd did not need anybody.  Least of all a copy of himself, angry and caged. 

But they did not fight anymore. Well, not like that first night. Joseph never earned back his original mass, remained thinner and lighter than his alleged copy. That alone was enough to set the balance of their relationship. 

His counterpart does not dignify his name, has never dignified it, and it plays easily into their dynamic.  

"Jimp." His counterpart growls, the... the... Drokk, he doesn't want to, but Joe bows his head as his counterpart comes back and looses his name, looses a small part of himself in the acceptance that the man standing over him is the real Judge Dredd of this world. He looks aside when Dredd comes across the room, boots thumping, silent as he's cornered. 

"Get up." The Judge is in no mood to let him lie. "I'm not gonna repeat myself, Jimp." 

And the Jimp stands, face turned away, and presents to Dredd. A large hand takes him by the upper arm, fingers wrapped completely around and burning marks into the skin. He knows better than to struggle. He's not a Judge anymore, not strong enough to land an effective blow. 

Dredd drags him up and hauls him to the bedroom. There is no mercy to be found in the bed itself. Shoulder jammed into his cheek, little Joe strambles back only to be hauled back by an ankle. "You don't belong here." Dredd says pinning the copy down with a knee jabbed into his lower back, "Done nothing but trash my place and lay around." 

_Not true_

Jimp- ah, Joe, drokk, his name is- is- 

"I'm talking to you, Jimp." A leather glove smacks hard against his ass. "Got a report you were outside the unit today." 

_That is true._

Dredd spanks him again, harder this time. Hard enough to jolt his body and light his nerves with fire. Dredd is only warming up. "Told you to stay in the drokking unit." The next three blows have the Jimp's thighs aching. 

And he's getting hard. Damn him, but he knows what's next and maybe he's been waiting for just this for too long. 

Again and again, the solid _whump_ of leather palm against bare skin echos against the empty room until Joe is sobbing. It ends, it does, but it feels like hours. His skin is drenched liquid fire. Dredd's breath moving the still air is enough to make the copy writhe. 

"You like having your ass beaten?" Dredd drags his gloves off, whipping the closure agaisnt his copy's raw ass until he screams for mercy, "You wouldn't have survived half a day on the street. Where ever you're from, you can't have been a real Judge." 

Joe drags himself back when Dredd stands to strip out of his uniform. 

He wasn't prepared, hasn't prepped for what he knows is now coming. He fumbles a half crushed bottle of lube from the bedside drawer. Though sheets are blessedly cool against his raw ass, the slightest pressure sears. But he needs the prep, needs to try. 

Dredd is shucking his boots, setting them neatly in their place. 

No time. There's no time. 

Joe spills lubricant over his fingers and hooks a knee with his hand. Drokk, it hurts, but he pushes two fingers in, sloppy and fast. 

He aches and whimpers and Dredd hauls him to the edge of the bed by the ankle. It's not much, but he's slick enough Dredd pushes in with minimal resistance. 

There's no way he can take it for very long.  
Dredd pins him with a hand on the back of his neck and the other holding his hips still for a brutal fucking. Intentional or not, Dredd slams against the soft place inside his copy that lights his pain frazzled nerves with pleasure. 

It's agony. 

The Jimp loves it. 

What else is there left to him, after all? 

Dredd fucks his copy into the mattress, hips slapping on the Jimp's red patched ass. "You're too easy to be a Judge." Dredd hisses, "No judge worth his badge would wet themselves for a fucking after being beaten blue." 

Joe doesn't answer, just bites into the sheets and screams his orgasm through clenched teeth. Entire body seized up, it's nothing for Dredd to shove deep and fill his copy with heat. 

He stays buried until he goes soft, pulling out and smacking at the ass brusing purple under his hips. Beaten, Joe doesn't even whimper, just collapses to the sheets with a jagged sigh. 

Dredd stands from the bed and goes to the washroom. He'll have to sleep with his skin damp and hole slick but Dredd will wash. 

Drokk, it hurts. The copy aches and his head is still foggy with orgasm when Dredd returns and drags him up the bed again. He won't be tucked in, but Dredd has the mercy to keeping him close. 

He won't be able to walk come morning, when he's Joe again, but Dredd will haul him to the washroom anyway. Dredd will be gruff and hustle him along, but he always checks to make sure his double isn't hurt too badly. 

 Dredd doesn't hate him. Not... Not really. Joe understands, when he's in his proper headspace. 

But he's not. He's the Jimp fucked raw and boneless, glad for the sheet tossed haphazardly over his waist as he dozes. Part sleep, part black out, it's the only real rest the lost Joe has any more. 


End file.
